Rich Man, Poor Man

By Kimberly Hofhiens

He drove him around for 20 years. Twenty years! And all he got out of it was a stupid knockoff Rolex and a personal digital assistant (PDA). Marking time, that's all. How much time until he's dead. Stupid bule. He lived here for twenty years and still he gave lousy western gifts.

Yuni knew his boss well. He liked tequila, karaoke, and small Indonesian women. But now, he didn't so much. Now he was the concerned husband. His wife was dying.

Yuni knew she was dying. No one told him, but no one had to either. Death lurked in her face like a dark shadow. Yuni could see it and he never wondered if anyone else could.

He flipped open the PDA. It had a lot of interesting colors and buttons, but nothing Yuni could really use. He would give it to his grand nephew, he decided. That boy was in school and maybe he could use all the buttons and the fancy display. Yuni snapped it shut and stroked the case. It was German made and very nice and expensive looking. He didn't wonder how it ended up in his hands. He knew it was a gift from a factory. A gift the boss didn't want. So now it was Yuni's retirement gift. And Yuni would give it to his grand nephew who might one day have to care for Yuni in his old age.

Yuni sat back in the torn recliner that was his chair in the garage. The maid and the guard were watching a Spanish telenovela. Suddenly, the pocket PDA beeped and kept on beeping. Yuni fumbled for it in his pocket. The maid threw him an impatient look and turned the TV up louder.

The beeping seemed to grow louder. The fancy display flashed, "Buy?" over and over again. Yuni didn't know what to do. He pressed a few buttons and the ringing stopped. Now the display read, "Are you sure?" A light flashed off and on, waiting for his reply.

Yuni saw the "YES" button and pressed it. The PDA was silent; no ringing and no questions. Yuni let out his breath. He hadn't realized he had been holding it.

The door slid open and the boss stepped out into the garage. He was tall and thick around the middle. He had once had a shock of blonde hair but that had been a long time ago. Now he was bald and his face was ruddy -- not an attractive bule.

"You're learning how to use that personal digital assistant?"

Yuni smiled. "Yes, boss. No problem."

"Good! Soon you'll be ready to run the stock exchange in your spare time." The boss laughed.

Yuni smiled politely. He knew the laughter was directed at him. He knew he was bodoh. The Dutch kept him stupid when he was young and now all the foreigners kept him stupid. It was always so.

"Come in, Yuni, I want to give you your retirement package." As Yuni stepped into the house he saw the office manager, Indra, and felt threatened. With Indra in the deal, he'd probably get nothing. Certainly not as much as Suyarno who got Rp 500 million. Of course, Suyarno, had worked for an oil company, so Yuni couldn't really expect that. But still, Indra's presence was not a good sign.

"Yuni," the boss began, "Indra and I have been talking about paying you off. We thought Rp 18 million would be enough." Yuni slapped his hand on the table and stood up. He shouted at Indra. "Enough! Enough for who? A mouse! I have a family! I have children at university! After twenty years I deserve a better payment!"

Indra held up his hands. "Calm yourself, sir. Quiet down." He smiled gently at Yuni. It was all going as he had planned, and it was working. "The boss's wife is asleep upstairs. Please quiet down."

"How much do you want?" the boss asked. Yuni's jaw dropped. They wanted to know how much he wanted? He felt the blood rush to his head, pounding hard, and then it all rushed out again. His mouth was dry and he felt sick. He needed to sit down, but he forced himself to concentrate. "How much do I want?" he croaked.

His brow furrowed, thinking hard. "His friend got Rp 500 million, right? So maybe Rp 300 million would be enough. Yes, Rp 300 million," he thought.

"Rp 30 million." His tongue stumbled over the numbers, the wrong English word.

Indra smiled and the boss smiled and they looked at one another.

"Rp 500 million." Yuni shouted, horrified he had given such a low price.

Laughter erupted in the room. "You can't be serious! We liked Rp 30 million better and that's what you'll get. Here is your certificate of guarantee. We'll deposit your check into your bank account within two working days so watch for it at the bank, Yuni."

Yuni felt dizzy. Was he crazy? Had he just given himself only Rp 30 million for his retirement. That was less than three years salary. He'd never last long enough ... He'd have to keep working ... Get another job ...

Yuni heard a loud "pop" and struggled to bring himself back to the conversation.

"How is your retirement, sir." Indra asked, as he poured a tall glass of beer and handed it to the boss. Indra poured one for himself too, but he never offered one to Yuni.

"Good. Except for Estelle. There is no medical treatment for her here. We need to go to Singapore." "You already have a doctor there, don't you?" "Yes, and Estelle's brother lives there too, so there's a place for me to stay. Her brother's a good sort and he's always trying to help me with my finances, but I can never make the machines work for me. Not like Yuni, here, can."

The boss clapped Yuni on the shoulder. It wasn't a hard slap but Yuni felt the force of it like it was a physical blow. "When I came out into the garage, Yuni was already handling the personal digital assistant like an old pro. Weren't ya, buddy?"

Yuni looked up into his boss's face. It was flushed. He had seen that look before. He had seen it every time the boss had closed a deal. And today, that deal was him, Yuni.

He knew it and he fought to control himself. He was an old man, he could not fight. He was stupid, he could not think. But he was a man, he could live with his mistakes.

His body acknowledged the defeat even if his spirit wouldn't. He stood, and his back curled more now. Where his eyes once had a spark, they were dull. And they saw the boss's elation, and knew the boss had won again. Yuni held out his hand. "Selamat siang, Bapak."

"Are you going already? I wanted to talk about that PDA. Estelle's brother gave that to me." "Oh." Yuni pulled it out of his pocket. "Do you want it back, sir? It had a game on it and I bought something and ... "

The display was running and running. ..."OUT OF FUNDS. TOTAL LOST US$1,425,635.29." "Wow!" The boss said as he read the numbers. "You lose big!" "Yeah, Bapak, I do. "Yuni's voice was wry and humorless. "Hey, wait a minute." The boss was looking at the pocket PDA, his face pasty white, all elation gone. "Hey, those are my account numbers! How did you get my numbers? It has my name in it! That was my money you lost!"

The boss lunged at Yuni. Yuni ducked through the door and out into the garage. Mister didn't follow, but Yuni could still hear him yelling. He couldn't understand the fast flow of English words. He waited a moment, uncertain of what he should do next. The Spanish telenovela drowned out Mister's voice.

The maid looked up and smiled. "Selamat siang, Bapak." Yuni smiled back. "Selamat tinggal, Ibu. He kick-started his motorcycle, and put on his helmet. He would have to leave the pocket PDA behind. He didn't want to go back into the house and see Mister. Yuni patted his breast pocket. He still had the retirement certificate.

A few months later Yuni met the maid in the pasar and heard all about his old boss. Her story was amazing and a little unbelievable. Apparently, Mister had lost all his money! He couldn't get Missus to Singapore for medical attention and her brother and Mister had fought. They had such hard feelings that Mister had not asked for help for Missus, and Missus had died.

Yuni shook his head, but the maid just continued. She said the boss was suffering from the same disease as Missus and lived in a small house in Bintaro. Now, Mister was so poor he couldn't afford a maid anymore.

Yuni was shocked, but the maid only frowned and left when he asked her if she was sure about her little cerita. Yuni watched her go. She was busy; she looked like she was still working and spending money. He noticed she was wearing one of the Missus' dresses.

Yuni lit up a cigarette and breathed deeply, letting the cloud of fumes fuddle his brain a bit. It didn't seem to work. He was thinking as clear as he ever had.

The maid hadn't mentioned a new boss, and yet she had a job. And Mister? Yuni couldn't imagine him as anything but rich. And look, Mister even gave away the Missus' clothes. Surely a poor man wouldn't do that!

Yuni spotted the maid across the street. She was smiling at a vendor, a flash of white teeth in her face. She was very young and pretty.

Yuni squatted on his heels and smoked, and wondered, and doubted. How could such a rich man be such a poor man?

***

Glossary: bule -- Indonesian slang which means white expatriate. telenovela -- Latin American soap opera. bodoh -- Indonesian for stupid Selamat siang, Bapak -- Indonesian for good afternoon, sir. Bapak -- Indonesian for Mr. or sir. Selamat siang, Ibu -- Indonesia for goodbye, madam pasar -- Indonesian for market cerita -- Indonesian for story